


If Somehow I Could Just Rekindle That

by Duck_Life



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Family Dinners, Gen, Happy, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vader gets a glimpse at what could have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Somehow I Could Just Rekindle That

When Anakin opens his eyes, the sun is setting and he has no idea where he is.

He realizes tiny pieces of the truth as he stands there, on what must be some kind of porch. He feels warm. He feels whole. He can see with his eyes, which means no mask, which means he should be dead.

He feels alive.

And when a hand lands on his arm, he doesn’t react, doesn’t startle, until Padmé leans up to kiss him on the cheek and says, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

 _This isn’t real_ , he tells himself, he knows it, but she is so beautiful and it feels so good to breathe. _This isn’t real_ , he tells himself as he walks into the house, as he steps forward with his own legs, as his wife turns to tell him, “Wash your hands, Ani. You’ll get the dynamic duo to start thinking they can eat with filthy hands.”

“The…” he starts, confused, but taken aback for a moment at hearing his real voice.

And then there they are, his children, small and bright and bickering.

“I saw it first,” Leia maintains.

“But you didn’t call _dibs_.”

“Well, I don’t _want_ it, nimrod.”

“Don’t call your brother a nimrod,” Padmé says mechanically, maneuvering around Anakin to finish setting the table.

“Dad, I saw a snake!” Luke announces, earning an astonished look from his father and an elbow in the ribs from his sister.

“ _I_ saw it _first_ ,” she says. “I went outside to see if the womp rat was back in the garden but then I had to-”

“It was _this_ big!”

“And he was just _pulling_ up all the _roots-_ ”

“It tried to bite us!”

“-and Mom doesn’t _care_ she says it’s _fine-_ ”

“We almost _died_!” Luke says it like he’s won a contest. Anakin feels like he’s going to fall over.

“Wash your hands,” his wife reminds him. But he doesn’t. He stands there in the corner of what must be his dining room and watches them, his family, prepare for a meal. The twins. The woman he loves. The food she brings out looks like what his mother used to cook, acacia and flat bread, greens and raisins.

“You set too many places,” he points out, counting and recounting the plates on the table. None of it feels real. But, to be fair, not much has felt _real_ in a very, very long time.

Padmé glances up at him absently before pouring milk for the children. “She should be here any second.”

Anakin’s finally made his way to the kitchen sink, and he’s staring at the nub of a bar of soap on the counter like it’s some strange artifact. Everything’s so new.

And then the knock at the door comes. “I’ll get it,” he tells his family, and he glides to the door like he’s dreaming.

He really hadn’t thought about who might be on the other side of the door when he opened it, but seeing her spears a bolt of _something_ through his chest, guilt and anger, tragedy, joy. Mild annoyance. Love.

“Hey there, Mister,” says Ahsoka Tano, smirking. “Getting some gray hairs there?”

Anakin just stares at her like he can’t believe she’s really standing here in front of him. He can’t. “You’re so old.”

It startles a laugh out of her. “You looked in a mirror lately?” Still, Anakin marvels at her. “Okay, are you gonna invite me in or are we just gonna stand here and be weird? Because I’m hungry-”

When he hugs her, it’s like everything he’s been so violently running from for so many years gets one degree easier. “Okay…” she says, muffled. “So… standing here and being weird.”

When he finally lets her go, she rolls her eyes and elbows her way past him. “Not like I don’t see you every week, weirdo,” she says, making her way into the dining room. Anakin can hear the twins chorus, _Auntie Snips, we saw a snake!_ And immediately restart their argument about who gets to tell the story.

As he shuts the door, suddenly he can feel the eyes on him. Familiar. She stands there at the edge of his vision, cold and bright, her green hair bouncing behind her. Daughter.

“What is this?” he asks, because whatever he thought, hoped, this was, it isn’t. It can’t be real.

“It isn’t real,” she tells him, sounding sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Then why…”

“I thought you should know,” she says. “How it could have been. What you could have had. I thought it might be… kind, for you to see-”

“This is _kind_?” he chokes out, pulse flaring. Without thinking about it he’s locked into an offensive stance, glaring, fists at his sides. “Showing me what I’ve lost? It’s a _kindness_?”

She just stares at him, watches him, witnesses him. He cannot tell which.

Slowly, he looks down at his hands. Smooths them out, unclenches them, lets them rest even in front of him. “She told me to wash my hands,” he says.

“You should.”

“How long?” he asks, and it comes out sounding so much pathetic than he meant it.

She seems stern and serene at the same time. “You can finish dinner.”

“I thought you were dead.”

She shrugs. Anakin looks at the dining room, at his family, and when he glances back the Daughter is gone.

Anakin goes to wash up for dinner.


End file.
